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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889926">The Future in Your Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shal/pseuds/prolix'>prolix (shal)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Light Angst, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:13:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shal/pseuds/prolix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry spends a lot of time during Sixth Year thinking about his future.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Future in Your Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofshapes/gifts">tasteofshapes</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Birthday tasteofshapes! You've been such a dear friend to me these past few weeks, and I thought I'd take this opportunity to show you some love. This is a Sixth Year fic because you once mentioned to me that you like that sort of thing. I've never written one before, so I hope I've done Harry and Draco justice! In addition, this fic is full of references to some of the Drarry headcannons you've posted on Tumblr. I didn't want to add to them, I think they're absolutely perfect as they are, but I did think it would be interesting to have Harry think about them. I've linked them throughout the fic so that anyone else reading this can enjoy a bit of your genius as well. I hope you enjoy! </p><p>Also, I wrote this in a bit of a rush, so it is very much un-beta'd. I really hope it's coherent, LOL!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry spends a lot of time during Sixth Year thinking about his future. It’s the only thing that keeps him sane, what with the pressure of an entire bloody war hanging over his shoulders like a rotting albatross. </p><p>	He thinks about it when in class, eyes caught on the gleam of Malfoy’s slicked back hair in the midst of one of Slughorn’s lectures. He thinks about what it would be like to be an Auror, to live with Ginny, to have three kids and a crup and a nice place to live. This particular dream feels easy and attainable, comfortable. After six years of Voldemort breathing down his neck, isn’t that what he wanted? Comfortable?</p><p>	He thinks about it when playing Quidditch, flying flat against his broom alongside Malfoy, the flutter of the snitch’s wings a ghost in his grasp. He thinks about what it would be like to be a professional Quidditch player, to indulge in the fame and spend his days in hotel rooms, hiding from the press and maybe, just maybe, enjoying a back-alley dalliance or two. It might be fun, he thinks, before surging forward to catch the snitch.</p><p>	Later that night, after the Gryffindor wins the match, the Slytherins crash their after-party. Everyone is too drunk to care at that point, and the Slytherins don’t seem too upset about their loss, anyway. They bring with them a whole host of drinking games that brings all four houses together in a shocking display of inter-house unity. Harry watches and thinks about what it would be like after the war. Would it be like <a href="https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/190384027050/for-the-ship-headcanon-meme-4-and-22">this</a>? Would he be listening to Parkinson’s loud laugh and Zabini’s sly innuendos echoing off the walls of a pub? Would he be watching the way Malfoy’s cheeks flush after every sip of his drink? He thinks he’s had too much to drink because when he imagines this, his arm isn’t curled around Ginny’s waist in the corner of a booth. Instead, he thinks he might find himself outside the loo, twined around--<em>wait, </em>no, that couldn’t be right, could it? Could it?</p><p>	He cannot help but think about it again when he’s following Malfoy one night, the Marauder's Map clutched in one hand and his wand in the other. He can barely make out the shape of Malfoy’s silhouette in the dim light of the corridor, but he manages to catch glimpses of the pale skin peeking over the edge of Malfoy’s collar. The sight makes him wonder what it would be like to touch him, to reach out, to have his fingertips coast over the tantalizing sliver of exposed skin. He imagines them as adults. Would Harry have permission to touch him <a href="https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/190384027050/for-the-ship-headcanon-meme-4-and-22">then</a>? To lace Malfoy’s fingers with his over the dinner table, to bury his nose in the slope of Malfoy’s neck, to slide the other man’s hips against his own? </p><p>	“Who’s there?”</p><p>	He freezes at the sound of Malfoy’s voice, belatedly realizing that Malfoy must've heard him. He doesn’t move, hoping that Malfoy will ignore him, that he’ll walk away. Malfoy spins around instead, expression tucked into a scowl that has Harry’s heart pounding in his chest. He walks back towards Harry, and Harry tries to decide whether he should try to run or fight. But before he can even think about casting a spell--an <em>Expelliarmus</em>, or maybe even the spell he’d seen in the Half-Blood Prince’s textbook, Malfoy has him pressed up against the wall, invisibility cloak off and wand jabbed into his throat.</p><p>	“Potter,” snarls Malfoy, teeth bared, “what a lovely surprise.”</p><p>	For a moment, neither of them move. Harry wonders if he should be feeling this turned on when he’s pinned against the wall at the mercy of someone else’s wand--probably not, but Harry’s never been one for self-preservation. He just wants Malfoy to put his wand away and <em>touch him.</em> He thinks Malfoy sees this, sees the future in his eyes before it can fully form, because his wand clatters to the floor with a loud noise and he surges forward, kissing him.</p><p>	Malfoy’s lips press hungrily against his, all wet, scorching heat. Harry’s fingers slide up, up, up until they’re tangled in Malfoy’s hair, tugging at the strands and pulling him impossibly closer. Touching him feels like flying, like having a little too much to drink, and Harry is delirious with it. 	</p><p>They break apart, eventually, connected only by thin strings of saliva. For a few seconds, Harry worries that this might be it, that whatever happened between them was just a one-off fuelled by an intoxicating concoction of stress and teenage hormones, but Draco’s hand brushes against his before he leaves--the touch lingering too long to be anything but deliberate. Something akin to hope sparks in Harry’s chest, and he knows that he’d do anything to keep the blaze alive.</p><p>The collide again, and again, and again over the next few weeks, Harry grinds into Malfoy at the top of the astronomy tower, sucks bruises into the hollow of his throat between classes, and pulls him under the invisibility cloak more than a few times to just <em>touch.</em></p><p>At some point, Malfoy turns into Draco. They exchange secrets in the dark, each one punctuated by soft, tentative words of comfort. He learns more about Draco than he ever thought he would--his family is French, he likes to dance, and after the war, he’d like to be a <a href="https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/190731846407/what-is-your-weirdest-headcanon-about-ichiruki-and">lawyer</a>. Harry calls him a swot the first time he hears this but, later, after Draco attempts to hex him within an inch of his life, tells him that he’d be a good one. Draco tries not to smile at this, but his rosy cheeks give him away. Harry pulls him closer and hopes he’ll be there to see him become one. </p><p>The war still looms ahead of them, a dark cloud hanging over the tiny bit of happiness they’ve managed to cling onto. One night, when Draco seems more grim than usual, Harry drags him into the Room of Requirement. It’s empty, save for a small table upon which sits an old record player, and Harry spells it to play music. The songs are loud and warbling, but it’s enough to pull Draco into a dance or two. </p><p>Draco’s face lights up when he’s dancing, his feet moving in perfect sync with whatever tune is playing. Harry could watch him for hours, and he does, but he also imagines what it would be like to see him like <a href="https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/190290508220/hi-lovely-7-and-14">this</a> after the war. He imagines that Draco would want to go to big dance clubs and parties. Harry doesn’t like big crowds or loud spaces, but if it would allow him to see Draco like this--happy and carefree, he’d take him anywhere he wanted.</p><p>Draco pulls him into a few more dances until they’re both laughing and breathless and too tired to make another move. They end up on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, flushed and full of what Harry can only describe as love.</p><p>He hopes his future is like this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Feel free to come find me on <a href="https://prolix-.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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